Impulse
by ILikeShorts
Summary: The annual retreat is here at last, and no one's more excited than Candice. It's the perfect opportunity to turn her crush on Volkner into something more, and nothing—not even a gorgeous, electric Pokémon-loving supermodel—can stand in her way. Whether it's Pokémon, fashion, or romance, this girl is all about focus. But a lot can go wrong when you only focus on one thing…
1. Struggle

_senirasushipping — because a little daydreaming never hurt anyone_

* * *

**- 1 -**

**Struggle**

* * *

Okay. I can handle this. All I have to do is focus.

It's only a suitcase. One tiny little suitcase. At least, that's what I tell myself as I summon every last ounce of my strength just to lift it off the ground. My arms are aching already.

Unbelievable. I mean, how much can a few clothes weigh?

It's not even like I brought that much stuff. One outfit for every day of the retreat. That's all.

And a pair of shoes to go with each of them. And a purse to go with each pair of shoes. Just the bare essentials. Nothing more.

Plus a whole pile of my favorite skirts. I had more than enough extra space, so I figured, why not? Which meant I had to pack more tops, because there's no point in having all those skirts if I have nothing to wear them with, is there?

Then I remembered the hotel pool, so I threw in a bikini or two. Or six, to be exact. And that gorgeous turquoise beach towel I bought at the Veilstone Department Store and never got a chance to use.

When are we going to have that beach party, anyway? I keep telling Volkner to make it happen—he's the one with the house on the beach—and so far all he's done is shrug those perfectly sculpted shoulders of his and tell me maybe later. When he's not so busy with the gym. He's been "busy with the gym" for over a year now.

Speaking of shoulders, I think I might have just sprained one. This suitcase is going to be the death of me.

No, seriously. It must weigh about a thousand pounds. I knew I should've bought the more practical one with the wheels. But this one had the cutest pattern—how could I resist?

It was no question, really. And now I'm faced with the impossible task of somehow transporting my stylish new bag through the largest hotel lobby I've ever seen.

I stop for a minute and take in my surroundings. It's got sleek marble columns. Sparkling crystal chandeliers. And that guy over there with the bodyguard—isn't he a famous actor? I swear I've seen him in something.

Really, this place is amazing. I've never been anywhere like it. It's classic, but modern. Elegant, but understated. And, I lament to myself as I abandon the idea of actually carrying my suitcase and resort to dragging it along the immaculate white tiles, _way_ too big for its own good.

In a perfect world, I'd just reach into the front pocket where my Poké Balls are packed and ask my Mamoswine to give me a hand. That's what I was planning on. But it turns out our hotel isn't exactly Pokémon-friendly. The sign's right there for everyone to see: _No Pokémon Permitted in Building_.

Crazy, isn't it? I mean, who doesn't like having Pokémon around? But I can understand the logic behind their rules. It'd be pretty tough to maintain a five-star hotel with Tauros charging down the hallways and Trubbish mucking up the furniture.

So here I am, practically on the verge of collapse, without a single Pokémon to help me. It's not exactly how I envisioned the first moments of our retreat.

My best friend Maylene seems to think this is funny. "Hey, Candice," she teases me. "You think you brought enough clothes?"

Maylene's suitcase isn't even one-third the size of mine. In fact, most of the other leaders have nothing but overnight bags. If I'm being honest, I look a bit ridiculous in comparison. But how was I supposed to know they'd all be such light packers? My philosophy is, if you can manage to cram half your wardrobe into your luggage, you might as well go for it. Then you've got options. You never know what you'll feel like wearing, after all.

Of course, I didn't realize I'd be carrying half my wardrobe all by myself. Whatever happened to those cute guys they hire to help you with your stuff?

I guess they're all busy. It _is _prime vacation season at the most popular hotel in Unova. When I volunteered to organize the Sinnoh League's annual retreat, nobody warned me that I was going to be dealing with one of the biggest travel weekends of the year. I'm lucky I got the booking in the first place.

Maylene's not the only one in on the joke. My other best friend, Gardenia, gapes at my overstuffed bag like she's expecting it to explode all over the lobby any second now. "I think Candice brought enough clothes for all of us."

She's not even holding _her_ suitcase. Her boyfriend Roark's taking care of it. I have to admit, I'm a little jealous.

"Yeah," he joins in, not missing a single beat. "If you like miniskirts and girly socks."

Not jealous because of Roark, I mean. Jealous because they're so perfect together that it almost makes me want to run straight to my hotel room and cry into my pillow about how I'll probably never land such a devoted boyfriend for myself. Almost.

Not to mention the fact that she doesn't have to carry a darned thing.

"Oh, come on, guys." I laugh halfheartedly, breathless as I struggle to keep up. "You know me."

All right, already. I get it. So I may have overpacked just a little. I really don't see why it's such a big deal. Byron's got a shovel, for Arceus' sake. Is he seriously planning to go digging for fossils this weekend?

Actually, yeah. Knowing him, I bet he is.

Anyway. Fantina's suitcase is almost as big as mine. No one's saying anything about that. Except Fantina wears these outrageous floor-length ball gowns with ultra-poufy skirts that probably take up half a suitcase on their own.

I don't have that excuse. You could probably fit five of my skirts into a handbag. But still.

Enough is enough. I can't do this anymore. My whole body hurts. I'll be so exhausted, I won't have the energy to move. I'll wind up spending the entire weekend in the hotel spa, getting massage after massage to undo all the damage I've done to myself with my thousand-pound bag.

…Which doesn't sound half bad, really. But I've got plans for this retreat. Spa days are kind of not on the agenda.

I let my suitcase fall to the ground and look around helplessly. "Can somebody give me a hand with this? Pretty please?"

"Sure can," says Maylene, grabbing it by the handle. Then she takes one look at it and swings the whole thing over her shoulder like it's nothing more than a shopping bag.

Wow. I'm impressed. Even Crasher Wake, the five-time Sinnoh wrestling champion, seems impressed. Where'd she learn to do _that_? All that training with Lucario must be paying off big time.

"Thanks, Maylene." I put on a grateful smile, but secretly, I'm a little disappointed. That wasn't quite who I had in mind.

Volkner didn't even notice me. Not that he ever does.

If it sounds like I'm exaggerating, I'm not. He hasn't looked my way once since we got here. Last time I checked, he was still talking to Byron. They've been talking battle tactics for the past half hour. Honestly. How much is there to say about entry hazards?

Well, a lot, now that I think about it. But that's not the point.

* * *

Finally. Now's my chance. As we join the line at the check-in desk, I make my way to the front of our group and just so coincidentally happen to stand right next to Volkner. At least, that's what I hope it looks like.

It's exactly what I'm supposed to be doing. I'm the one who made our reservation, after all. So, if anyone asks, I'm only up here to make sure things go smoothly once we get called to the counter. Not because I'm dying to say hi to him or anything.

"Candice. Hey."

There are no words for the way I feel when I hear that voice. Maybe this isn't the perfect moment I was aiming for. My skirt's all rumpled from lugging my massive bag around, and I'm still breathing a little hard. But after all this time without so much as a glance from Volkner, I'll take what I can get.

I turn to him with my most dazzling smile—not that I could suppress it even if I tried. "Hey yourself."

"You sure got rid of that suitcase fast." He nods in Maylene's direction. "You do know we're not staying here forever, don't you?"

"Of course I do!" I giggle. "I'm in charge, remember?"

I know, I _know_. This is just the kind of teasing I was complaining about. But when Volkner does it, it's different. You could almost say he's flirting with me.

You could also say he's making fun of me. But I like the first idea better.

"So what can I look forward to this weekend?" he asks me. "Fashion shows? Two thumbs down Pokéstar Studios chick flicks?" Then the smirk on his face gives way to a genuine smile. "Maybe even a battle or two?"

"Whatever you want." The words barely register with me as they slip out. He's already got me on cloud nine, idly twisting a ponytail around my finger as I gaze upward into impossibly blue eyes.

It's been like this since day one. Somehow, I can never seem to focus when Volkner's around.

Wait a sec. Did I _really_ just say that?

"I mean, I'm not going to tell you how to spend your retreat." I revert to the most neutral, matter-of-fact, _so-_not-coming-on-to-him voice I can manage. "I thought we could all just kind of do our own thing, you know?"

That's the only way to do it. Last year, when Fantina was in charge, she took us all to Lilycove to watch the Master Rank Contests. (Fantina's a contest fanatic. Of course she would.) We had fun, but it was pretty clear that not everyone wanted to be there. Especially after Volkner and Flint skipped the final rounds on account of so-called food poisoning. Then Lucian saw them sneaking back to their rooms that night with armfuls of prizes from the Battle Tower.

Anyway. That won't be happening this time around. Now that it's my turn to run the show, I've arrived with a plan that all the leaders will love—no plan whatsoever. I got eight tickets to Nimbasa, booked a hotel, and the rest is up to them.

Volkner flashes me a rare grin. "I like your style."

"I thought you would." I beam back at him. "But if it's battles you're after, the Battle Subway's supposed to be awesome!"

"I know."

"And you know about the different trains, right?" I can't resist asking. This is the opportunity I've been waiting for. "Single Battle and Double Battle. And then there's Multi Battle," I add hopefully, giving Volkner a meaningful look. "You're going to need a partner for that one."

"Yeah." He frowns. "Too bad Flint's stuck at the League."

The words hit me like a Hyper Beam. That was _not _who I meant.

"Wasn't my idea." I shrug, but I can't shake off the hurt I feel. What about me? Does he think I'm not good enough for him?

Okay, so maybe I can't measure up to his usual partner in crime. And there's no denying that Volkner can beat me in a Pokémon battle any day of the week. But it's not like I can't hold my own with him—at least, until that Electivire of his comes out to play and it's game over.

But still. I wouldn't be battling _against_ Volkner. We'd be on the same team. So he doesn't have to be such a jerk about it.

"Cynthia insisted on it," I explain. I'm making every effort to sound like I'm not upset in the slightest—so far, so good. "I tried to get her to see it my way, but you know how she is."

Which isn't exactly the truth. I agreed with Cynthia without a second thought. She had this idea that instead of going on one big Pokémon League retreat like we usually do, the Gym Leaders and Elite Four should go separately for a change. Because after what happened with Team Galactic not too long ago, it'd be downright irresponsible for all of Sinnoh's top trainers to go on holiday at the same time. It hasn't been the most popular decision, but I think it makes a lot of sense. You can't be too careful these days, you know?

Okay, fine. The real reason is, this whole separate retreats thing really works in my favor. If Volkner had his BFF Flint to hang with, I doubt he'd even be talking to me right now.

"Forget about it. You tried." He leans back against a pillar, nonchalant as ever. "So, Candice. Think you can keep up with me?"

_Keep up with me?_ Does that mean what I think it means?

"Is that a challenge?"

"It's a challenge, all right." Volkner stares me down in mock arrogance, daring me to back out now. "I'm warning you—the Subway's not going to be easy."

"And I wouldn't want it any other way. You're on!"

As we shake on it, I can't help but reminisce at the feeling of my hand in his. It takes me back to our very first match.

I remember it like it was yesterday. I'd only just met Volkner and the other leaders, and I was dying to see what all the hype was about. He couldn't be _that _good, I thought.

Well, he was _that_ good. It's true what they say—you don't even know Volkner till you've seen him in battle. He has this attitude about him a lot of the time, like he's completely and utterly bored by, well, life. But the moment that Poké Ball leaves his hand, he's a different person. And before you can so much as blink, he's throwing everything he's got at you and you're pulling out all the stops just to stay in the game. I didn't stand a chance.

And when it was all over—when he shook my hand and those electric blue eyes met mine and I almost forgot to let go—that was when I knew. I was falling for Volkner. Hard.

That was a long time ago. Several more battles and dozens of unsuccessful flirting attempts later, I've fallen farther than I ever thought possible, and absolutely nothing has come of it.

Well, maybe not _nothing_. We're friends. That has to count for something.

But only in the same way that pretty much all of us in the League are friends—those of us under the age of thirty, anyway. We hang out. Have dinner. See movies. Throw parties. You know the deal. But I can never get him alone, and Volkner's hardly the type to care about broadening his social circle—he's always off complaining to Flint about pointless League policies or mediocre challengers clogging up his gym schedule, never giving me the time of day.

Which is exactly why this retreat is so important. Flint's not going to get in my way now.

It's everything I've ever wished for. Me and Volkner and no one else, side by side as we conquer whatever the Multi Train throws our way. I'll battle the best I ever have, and we'll go further than any trainers have gone before. And when the Subway Bosses fall to our unstoppable combination of lightning and ice, we'll run into each other's arms, dizzy with excitement as we celebrate our record-breaking victory.

_"Candice, you're amazing," _he'll tell me, emotion pouring out of every word as he holds me tightly.

_"Oh, stop it, Volkner," _I'll say, laughing softly as I lean into his embrace._ "Not half as amazing as you."_

"Candice."

"Yes, Volkner?"

I'm still lost in daydreams of whispered compliments and triumphant smiles when his voice brings me back to earth. But it's nothing like I imagined just now—sharp and impatient and not the least bit impressed.

He points at one very frustrated hotel clerk, calling us up to the front desk for what doesn't sound like the first time. Or the second time. Or even the third time.

"You gonna check us in or what?"

* * *

_Up next: Volkner shows up outside Candice's hotel room. And you'll never guess what he wants..._


	2. Whirlwind

_senirasushipping — because a picture is worth a thousand words_

* * *

**- 2 -**

**Whirlwind**

* * *

There's just one little tradition I have when I travel. The moment I set foot in my hotel room, before I go anywhere or do anything or even sit down, I head straight to the window and take a good, long look at the view.

It only takes a single glimpse of the Nimbasa City lights to render me completely breathless.

Some might say this is nothing special. But compared to Snowpoint, it's downright magical. Back home, the tallest building is the Pokémon Center, with a grand total of two stories. And if you happen to glance out the second floor window, all you'll see is more snow.

From way up here in room 1605, I can see Nimbasa for miles and miles. There's that famous theater—the one where Pokémon Musicals first came to be. And there's that massive sports stadium—thanks to its size, it's impossible to ignore. And off to the side, brighter than anything else on the horizon, there it is.

The Ferris wheel. I've been fantasizing about it ever since I picked the location for this year's retreat. Me and Volkner on the Ferris wheel, to be specific. It's the stuff romcoms are made of. The sun will be setting and we'll be sitting close, and he'll take my hand, and I'll rest my head on his shoulder…

_"It's beautiful,"_ I'll say, gazing out at the sky and the city below.

_"You're_ _beautiful,"_ he'll reply, never taking his eyes off me.

When we reach the highest point, the wheel will stop, if only for a moment. And he'll smile at me like he never has before and I'll smile back because _this_ is what I've been waiting for, and we'll lose ourselves in the perfect kiss. Because that's just what you do on top of a Ferris wheel. It's practically common knowledge.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not crazy. I know the odds of any of that actually happening are slim to none. But a girl can dream, right?

Dreaming may be an understatement. The thing is, I've learned pretty quickly that Volkner doesn't _do _romance. Like, he thinks _Sleepless in Striaton_ is the stupidest movie ever. And Flint once told me that Volkner's ex-girlfriend Jasmine finally broke it off because she'd send him these love letters all the way from Johto and then he'd go and reply via text message, which is kind of missing the point.

Not that I minded or anything. It just goes to show that she wasn't the right girl for him. But anyway.

I can't just stand here and stare out the window all night. It's time I changed out of these winter clothes. So I forget the Ferris wheel for now and empty the contents of my suitcase out onto the floor (not ideal, I know—but I can't exactly lift it onto my bed, can I?) in search of the perfect outfit.

"_Zut alors_!" shrieks Fantina as she emerges from the closet, eyeing the now-covered carpet with a frown. "Is that all _yours_?"

Yes, Fantina. That's my roommate. Fantina, of all people. It's a long story.

I know what she's thinking. Why in the world would I need all this for one measly weekend away?

To be totally honest, I'm not too sure myself. I guess I've always just been something of a fashionista. It goes way back to my junior trainer years, when I insisted on wearing pretty little coats and tights while all the other kids were in snowsuits. It's a part of who I am.

Although Alicia from my gym did tell me something interesting once. (She tends to overanalyze, that girl. It's oh so convenient when it comes to planning battle strategies, not so convenient when it comes to real life.) She thinks my passion for fashion stems from a deep-down desire to distance myself from the old Snowpoint Gym Leader like my life depends on it.

Ugh. That woman. As I ditch my snow boots for a summery pair of sandals, I shudder just thinking about her. Cold as ice, she was. And practically inhuman. I should know—I trained under her for three years, and took every single class she taught at the Trainers' School.

Sounds fun, doesn't it? But I'd dreamed of becoming a Gym Leader and I wasn't giving up for anything, and that was hands down the best education I could get. And I was a straight-A student the whole way through, but when I did get the occasional detention (sometimes for talking too much in class, other times because my skirt was too short), it was always because of _her_.

Every morning, without fail, she'd turn up in the same grey overcoat. Like some kind of uniform. And it matched her personality perfectly. Sensible and stern and no fun at all. Just like her. Just like everyone expects an ice-type Gym Leader to be.

Some people say that attitude is why she finally snapped and quit her job. Which I guess I should be thankful for, because I wouldn't be in charge of the gym now if she hadn't.

So Alicia's gotten it into her head that, consciously or not, I dress the way I do (read: my wardrobe is the stuff of Snowpoint legend, and I never wear grey, _ever_) to show the world I'm different.

But that's ridiculous, right? They're only clothes.

"Sorry about the mess," I tell Fantina. "I'll have it all put away before you know it."

When we're interrupted by a series of knocks just minutes later, I haven't done much more than take out my ponytails.

"I'll get it!" I call out, rushing to answer the door. It's got to be Maylene and Gardenia, dropping by to make plans for tonight.

But when I swing it open, I find myself staring helplessly at the last person I expected to see. Volkner. And he looks like he means business.

"Let's talk. Outside. _Now_."

* * *

My heart's pounding hard as I step out into the hallway. What could he possibly want?

Maybe I forgot to give him his room key and he's been out here this whole time. Maybe he got an emergency message from Cynthia and we're heading back to Sinnoh to fight off the latest band of terrorists. Or maybe he just can't wait another second to unleash his inner demons on the Battle Subway.

Yeah. I like that. Let's go with that.

His voice is low, but unmistakably sharp. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Arceus, he's mad. So I guess the Subway is out.

"Care to explain how I wound up sharing a room with Crasher Wake?"

Oh. _That._ I might have accidentally-on-purpose forgotten to let Volkner know about that one minor detail.

"Have you _seen_ how busy this place is? Four rooms were all I could get."

I'm not joking. And even that took a solid week of bombarding the manager with insistent messages via phone, e-mail, and Delibird.

It wasn't supposed to play out like this. I thought for sure that Volkner would buddy up with Roark. But Gardenia told her boyfriend about our little accommodations issue long before the retreat, and he let it slip to his dad. And once Byron realized he was facing the prospect of an entire weekend with Wake, he warned Roark in no uncertain terms that he'd better room with him or else.

And I wasn't going to tell Volkner that. I couldn't have him skipping out on the retreat altogether, could I?

"It'll be fine," I do my best to reassure him. "So Wake is a little out there. But—"

"A _little_ out there?" He's staring at me like I'm insane. "The guy dumps his luggage in the hallway, damn near rips the door off its hinges, and dive-bombs onto the couch yelling 'Crasher Wake is in the house!'"

I can't help it. The visual's just too much. I've dissolved into full-on giggles before I know it.

_Great._ Now he's really going to be mad.

But when I finally work up the nerve to meet his eye, he's struggling not to laugh himself. Who would've thought? Volkner's got a sense of humor after all.

"I know it sucks," I say, once I regain my composure. "But I can't do a thing about it now. And you're not the only one complaining." I lean in close and soften my voice to a whisper. "I'm stuck with Fantina all weekend."

That was pretty much down to bad luck. We girls decided who'd be the odd one out with good old-fashioned rock-paper-scissors, and Gardenia was the first to lose.

But Gardenia was never an option to begin with. She's terrified of ghosts. Trust me—I can't even take my Froslass out of its Poké Ball when she's around. No way could she survive with Fantina and her team of six of them. (This was before we discovered the no-Pokémon-in-the-hotel rule. I really should've done my research on that one.) So Maylene and I played another round on our own, and I was the loser that time.

"Have fun with that." Volkner's tone couldn't be more sarcastic.

"I'll try," I say with a laugh. "Somehow I don't think I'll be spending much time in my room."

There's a flicker of interest in his eyes. "I was thinking the same thing."

A long silence passes between us, and all of a sudden I'm desperately racking my brain for a clever remark or a change of subject or anything—_anything_ will do. But all that's going through my head is those eyes are a million different shades of blue and I could get lost in them forever.

What were we talking about, again?

I should go. Quit while I'm ahead. "So…" I begin, inching back toward the door. "I've got a lot to unpack…"

But Volkner cuts me off. "You wanna get out of here?"

I don't believe it. He almost looks like he doesn't quite believe it himself.

Do I? Is the sky blue? Does it snow in Snowpoint? Have I been waiting for this evening since the day we met? (The answer to all of those questions, for the record, is a big resounding _yes_.)

"Or I could unpack tomorrow. Or never. Why bother unpacking at all?" I'm rambling now, aren't I? I need to calm down ASAP before he hightails it out of here faster than a Rapidash on speed. "Just let me grab my purse."

So I retrieve it from my room, wave a quick goodbye to Fantina (hope she can wait a few hours for me to put away those clothes), and head back into the hallway to join Volkner for the night of a lifetime. But not before I whip out my phone and send a triumphant text message to Gardenia and Maylene.

_BEST. RETREAT. EVER. :D_

* * *

Ten minutes later, Volkner and I are walking side by side through the heart of Nimbasa's entertainment district. The streets are buzzing with noise, the city's alive with color, and I've never gotten so many jealous stares in my life. And this isn't even a _date_.

But all the girls craning their necks in envy as we pass them by—they don't know that. All they know is that he's with _me_. I feel a rush of excitement at the thought.

I should probably explain at this point that Volkner's nothing short of drop dead gorgeous. _Sinnoh Weekly's_ named him the Sexiest Trainer Alive for three years running, and there's not a single female at my gym who hasn't asked me if there's any chance she'll ever get to meet him.

(Not if I can help it. If there's one thing I don't need, it's competition. Aren't I having a hard enough time as it is?)

"So, where to?" I toss my hair over my shoulder, reveling in all the attention we're getting.

"I should be asking you that. You're in charge, remember?" Volkner teases, throwing my earlier words right back at me.

"Well, let me think." I pause at a corner to consider our next move. It's definitely too late to start on the Battle Subway. We'd be there all night. Good thing I've got someplace else in mind...

"Wanna check out the Ferris wheel?" I ask, trying not to sound too excited. "It's supposed to be a must-see."

I know I'm seriously pushing my luck here. But if he says yes…

"Might as well." He shrugs.

This night is so perfect, it's almost unreal. Would it be awkward if I asked Volkner to pinch me?

* * *

Halfway to the Ferris wheel, it occurs to me that there's one tiny downside to being all alone with your number one crush. No one's around to come to your rescue when you run out of things to say.

Which is not something I normally have to deal with. The opposite is more like it—Roark once said it'd take a Rock Slide to shut me up. But it's hard to know what to talk about with a guy like Volkner. Let's just say he's not exactly a chatterbox.

Thank Arceus for the enormous plastic Pikachu over there. Volkner's got a major soft spot for everyone's favorite electric mouse. I know this for a fact.

"I love Pikachu," I declare, gesturing toward the sculpture as we walk by. "Don't you?"

The strange look he gives me is _not_ the response I was hoping for.

"They're just the cutest little things. Plus they remind me of…" I trail off, feeling myself blush. I was about to say _you._ "Nothing."

"Of what?" He shoots me a sly sideways glance. "Don't leave me hanging."

"Of… of yellow. My favorite color." That's the best I can come up with?

"Yellow," he repeats skeptically. "I would've guessed blue."

He's right. It _is_ blue. Wonder how he figured that one out. I mean, I do wear a lot of it. But that's not something Volkner would notice.

"So. How about a picture?" Nothing like a distraction to end the most disastrous conversation in Unovian history. And getting my own personal photo with him—that wouldn't be so terrible, either.

He shakes his head. "I'll pass."

"Come _on_, Volkner. It's Pikachu. Your first Pokémon. You can't say no to that."

"You've been talking to Flint again, haven't you?" he accuses me. But he's resisting the urge to smile, I'm sure of it.

"Guilty," I say with a giggle. Flint is the perfect source of info on all things Volkner. He knows him better than anyone else. What he doesn't know is how to keep his mouth shut. In other words, it's win-win.

When I hand my phone to a nearby tourist to "take a picture of me and my friend," Volkner finally realizes I'm not backing down. "You're not going to give up, are you?"

I grin at him. "Nope."

Honestly. All I want is a memento of the soon-to-be greatest night of my life. Is that so much to ask for?

"Then let's get this over with." He takes his place beside me in front of the Pikachu, making a big show of his reluctance. And just as the flash is about to go off, he slips a casual arm around my shoulders. "Happy now?"

Oh, Volkner. You have _no_ idea.

"Not bad," I say, when I see the photo. And by _not bad_, I mean I know what I'm using as my wallpaper for the next six months. "I'll send you a copy, 'kay?"

"If you want." He sounds like he couldn't care less.

Well, it doesn't bother me in the slightest. What matters is, he put his arm around me. That has to mean something.

Of course it doesn't mean anything. Everyone does that in pictures. What else would he do, stand off to the side with his arms crossed in annoyance?

You know, it _is_ Volkner. I can almost kind of see that happening.

* * *

By the time we arrive at our destination, the sunset has come and gone, and the Ferris wheel is a breathtaking white against the night sky. "Just _look_ at it," I gasp, captivated by the sight of it. Up close, it's twice the size I imagined it to be, and ten times more romantic.

"Would you look at that," Volkner echoes, sounding equally awestruck. Which is _so_ not like him.

Just as I thought. He's staring right past it. At—

Oh, no. This can't be good.

His eyes are wide with excitement. "Is that… a gym?"

For one brief, fleeting moment, I wonder if I could somehow convince Volkner that, no, it's not a gym. Who builds a gym next to a Ferris wheel? It's obviously a gift shop.

But it's written right there. _Nimbasa City Pokémon Gym_. I nod miserably, watching my dreams shatter before my eyes. "That's a gym, all right."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

Thanks a lot, Nimbasa. I was _this_ close.

"We'll never get in this time of night," I argue, but I know there's no stopping him now. Nothing gets between Volkner and a tough battle, and I mean nothing. I might as well go home.

"Only one way to find out." He starts toward the automatic doors, and all I can do is hope.

_Don't open. Don't open. Don't open..._

They do.

"Well, how about that?" He grins.

And we enter a gym like I've never seen before.

Let me just say—I've been to some fantastic gyms in my lifetime. Gardenia's flower gardens are gorgeous. I don't mean to brag, but the ice back at mine is nothing to joke about. And Volkner's... that place is so high-voltage, even the Sunyshore power grid has trouble standing up to it.

(Which, actually, is starting to become a Sinnoh-wide issue. He should really take a break from all the renovating and sort that out sometime. But I'm not going to be the one to say so.)

But this… even Volkner's gym doesn't compare. Everywhere I turn I see roller coasters, sprawling throughout the building in a maze that all but the most stubborn challengers would balk at. I can't even begin to comprehend the mechanics of this setup.

Volkner does, I'm sure. I don't think I've ever seen him look so… thunderstruck. For lack of a better word.

"Jealous?" I ask teasingly.

"You bet."

"Blows your mind, doesn't it?" A third voice—a confident female voice—fills the air, and suddenly we're face to face with the most unfairly beautiful girl I've ever encountered. "Welcome to my gym. I'm Elesa."

* * *

_Up next: __Candice feels like the odd girl out as Volkner and Elesa hit it off big time. But she's not about to give up just yet_...


	3. Frustration

_senirasushipping — because no one ever fell in love gracefully_

* * *

**- 3 -**

**Frustration**

* * *

It's Elesa. _The _Elesa. I'm not one to get starstruck, but…

Oh, who am I kidding? Here I am, shaking hands with the biggest name in the fashion world. I've never been so starstruck in my life.

"It's so amazing to meet you!" I tell her. "I'm Candice. _Love _your work."

As she says her thanks, I can only imagine what lies ahead. We're going to be great friends, I just know it. Maybe she'll even let me tag along to a photo shoot while I'm here.

This retreat is getting crazier by the minute. Who'd have thought I'd run into a supermodel? It's almost enough to make me forget that I'd be on the Ferris wheel in Volkner's arms by now if it weren't for Elesa and her gym.

_Almost._

"Volkner." He introduces himself in a single word, and his gaze lingers on her for longer than I can handle. "I like what you've done with the place."

"Glad to hear it. I designed it myself."

Life is so unfair. Some people are good at _everything._

"Makes my gym look like crap." He laughs dryly, and I cross my arms in annoyance. When Volkner saw _my _gym for the first time, all he said was "Aren't you cold?"

"So you're a Gym Leader." She flashes him her trademark megawatt smile—the same one I've seen on three different magazine covers this month alone. "I like you already."

A surge of jealousy courses through me, but I force myself to relax. Everyone knows girls like Elesa are always attached to pro athletes or A-list actors or rock stars. I've got nothing to worry about.

But that's not what she told that reporter on _The Fashion Show_ last week. "I'm single as a Wingull," she quipped, to the collective groan of everyone everywhere.

Forget what I said about making friends and going to photo shoots. I hate her.

"From Sinnoh. So's Candice."

Volkner doesn't seem the least bit fazed by her fame. In fact, the way he's carrying on, you'd think he'd never even heard of Elesa.

Which, knowing him, is probably about right. "You have no idea who you're talking to, do you?"

"Why, have we met before?"

I knew he'd say something like that. Now she just needs to take it like the diva she is, and he'll be so turned off that even her state-of-the-art gym won't be enough to make up for it.

"Elesa's the top model of top models." It's what all the fashion blogs are calling her these days, and it comes out with more resentment than I intended. "Funny he hasn't heard of you," I can't resist adding, with a smug glance in her direction.

"I do some modeling in my spare time," she explains indifferently. Which doesn't help me at _all_.

"That's great." Volkner brushes off the news like it's nothing. "But honestly, I'm a lot more interested in your gym."

"Really?" Elesa's face has lit up in a big way. Needless to say, this is not going as planned.

"I'd give anything for a match here. If you're not too busy working the runway, that is."

"Oh, I'm sure I can fit you in somewhere." She's on to her second-most famous smile now—the one she uses for racier shoots and lingerie ads.

I don't believe this. Five minutes and they're flirting like crazy.

"Good. I'll be ready for it."

"Well, Volkner, I think you're in for a shock."

"Don't tell me." His voice is incredulous. "You train electric types."

She tosses a Poké Ball into the air and a Tynamo shoots out, bouncing from wall to wall like a stray bolt of lightning. "Nothing but the best."

"Can't argue with that. So do I."

"I use the ice type myself," I say, but no one's paying attention to me anymore.

Oh, for Arceus' sake. They're completely taken with each other. I could probably walk out the door right now, and Volkner wouldn't even notice.

* * *

This is bad. Really bad. Ever since they discovered their shared love of all things electric, Volkner and Elesa have been talking nonstop.

_Volkner_. Talking nonstop. Now there's something I never thought I'd see.

They've gone over everything from how to install a backup generator to where to find one of those elusive Volt Switch TMs. (Turns out Elesa's got a box of them sitting in the control room. Why am I not surprised?) They even spent ten whole minutes debating the merits of Thunder versus Thunderbolt. And when I asked what the difference was—they always looked like the exact same attack to me—they just glanced at each other and laughed.

And it gets worse. I mean, just _look_ at Elesa. She's every bit as stunning as she is in pictures. I'm talking flawless skin, legs for days, and that ultra-short haircut that's all the rage right now. If I had that done, I'd look like a boy. On her, it's chic as anything.

That dress must be a designer original—_haute couture_, as Fantina would call it. And don't get me started on those shoes. Her five-inch electric yellow pumps are the talk of the catwalk, and I know for a fact that you can't even buy them yet. But when you've got the entire industry groveling at your feet, I guess that's hardly an issue.

I finger the hem of the flouncy little skirt that seemed so cute when I put it on this morning and suddenly feel like a fashion failure. Every inch of Elesa's ensemble screams sophisticated and urbane. Next to her, I might as well still be in Trainers' School.

"Sorry, Candice." Her voice interrupts my thoughts, and I realize I've been staring far longer than is normal. "Were you saying something?"

"I was just checking out… your dress," I improvise. "I've never seen anything like it. Is it new?"

Volkner gives it an appreciative once-over. "That _is_ one hell of a dress."

"I wore it in a show last week," Elesa replies offhandedly. "So I guess you could say it's hot off the runway."

And I open my big mouth before I can stop myself. "Maybe it should've stayed there."

For the next few moments, no one says anything. But I know what they're thinking. Just what is my problem, anyway? I'm gazing blankly across the room, half-wishing that pesky little Tynamo would make a wrong turn and electrocute me on the spot, when Elesa finally speaks.

"So. How'd you guys like to try out the roller coaster?"

She's obviously trying to smooth things over. Which is pretty nice of her. And just so happens to make her look like the very picture of class and grace while I'm stuck looking like a jealous bitch.

Well played, Elesa. Well played.

* * *

Just as I've come to expect from everyone's favorite supermodel, the ride is nothing less than sensational. I'm literally on the edge of my seat, and Volkner and I are mere inches apart, thanks to those oh-so-convenient shoulder restraints. But I'm too busy feeling sorry for myself to enjoy any of it.

I don't know how to design a roller coaster. I don't know the difference between Thunderbolt and Thunder. I don't even know what a generator's for. I've never been to a fashion show, let alone been in one. I don't own any _couture_. The last time I tried to walk in five-inch heels, my Abomasnow had to carry me home.

In other words, there's no way I can compete with Elesa. Why bother trying?

But as we come to a stop, I realize I've been clutching Volkner's arm all along. I really don't want to lose him, do I?

_Well, I won't_, I tell myself, with one last burst of determination. Then he bolts from the car without even thinking to help me up. Which so figures.

"That was amazing," he says to Elesa, as I barely manage on my own. Getting out of one of these in a miniskirt is a lot harder than you'd think.

"It was alright." I do my best to sound unimpressed. "Try skiing down a fifty-degree slope. Now that's amazing."

At least, that's what the guys at my gym say. I've only done it once, on a dare. And I lasted maybe ten seconds before I called out every single one of my Pokémon to get me down the hill in one piece. But they don't need to know that.

Volkner doesn't seem convinced. "Says the girl who was clinging to me for dear life."

_Yeah, for entirely different reasons._ But I can't exactly say so.

Oh, what the heck. If I'm going down no matter what, I might as well go down fighting.

"Can I help it if I can't keep my hands off you?" I tease, and feel the heat rushing to my cheeks in an instant. No wonder I don't flirt like this more often.

"You can't, huh?" He's giving me that penetrating look of his—the one that never fails to make me all faint and fluttery inside.

So of course Elesa has to go and ruin everything. "Volkner, I was thinking. Has anyone ever told you you could be a model?"

Arceus, she's shameless. Can't she see we're having a moment here?

(Though I have to admit, he does look the part. But still.)

"My agent would be _all_ over you. Why don't I give you her number?"

"Don't bother," he scoffs. "I'm not interested."

You hear that, Elesa? He's not interested. So_ there_.

But then a wry smile spreads across his face. "You can give me yours, though."

This is ridiculous. We never should have come to Nimbasa. Never.

* * *

I couldn't take it anymore. I had to get out of there. So when Volkner ignored my million and one hints about wanting to leave and asked to take a look at the control panel (Elesa said sure—what else?), I feigned jet lag and went back to the hotel on my own.

Gardenia and Maylene fling their door open after a single knock, like they've been waiting up all night. They come at me with so many questions, I can only make out a few. Like "What happened?" and "Tell us everything," and "So does Volkner kiss anything like he battles?"

Maybe if Elesa hadn't come along, I'd actually know the answer to that.

I push past them both and flop down on the nearest bed. "Worst. Retreat. Ever."

There's silence for a moment, until Maylene points out the obvious. "That's not what it said in your text."

"That was before we met the Gym Leader. If you saw her, you'd understand. And you'll never guess what kind of Pokémon she uses."

"Grass?" Gardenia asks hopefully. Sometimes I think she likes her signature type a bit too much.

"Electric. It had to be electric." I let out a miserable sigh. "First all he wanted was to check out the gym. Then he challenged her to a battle. The next thing I knew, he was asking for her phone number." I laugh bitterly. "Elesa's the worst."

"_The_ Elesa?" Maylene's eyes are wide.

"That's the one."

"Wow. You've got your work cut out for you. Not that she's prettier than you or anything," she adds quickly.

"Let's be real." I bury my face in a pillow. "I don't have a chance."

* * *

There's not much that can cheer me up tonight, but I have to give my friends credit for trying. Half an hour later, Maylene's moved all the furniture out of our way, and Gardenia's arranged the bedding into makeshift sleeping bags. I don't care what anyone says—you're never too old for a slumber party.

I've gone back to my room and changed into my coziest pajamas. (And assured Fantina several times that, yes, I _am_ going to do something about those clothes on the floor. Eventually. When I feel better.) And we've just about finished all the candy in the minibar. All that's missing is a game of truth or dare.

Which I'm not even going to suggest. It wouldn't be ten seconds before Gardenia dared me to tell Volkner I love him once and for all. Or show up at his door in a negligee.

"I don't know how you let this happen," she's saying to me now. "You love fashion. You love Pokémon. And you had no idea about the supermodel Gym Leader down the street from our hotel?"

"I had a lot on my mind, okay?" Like a certain other electric Gym Leader. And that fairy-tale Ferris wheel fantasy that's practically a pipe dream now. We only made it as far as that stupid Pikachu.

Which reminds me. At least one good thing came out of this.

I bring up the picture on my phone. "Look at us. How did it all go so wrong so fast?"

Gardenia studies it with disbelief. "What'd he do, lose a bet? He's got his arm around you and everything."

"Nope. And if you turn it a quarter of an inch this way…" I angle my phone to the left. "It almost kind of looks like he's smiling."

They both burst out laughing. "Oh, Candice."

"It does, I swear! So how do I get from this…" I point at my frowning reflection in the mirror, now a far cry from the starry-eyed, lovestruck girl in the photo. "Back to that?"

"You'll figure it out," Maylene reassures me. "Just focus."

Of course. Pokémon, fashion, romance… it's all about focus. Those are the words I live by, and I let it be known every time a challenger walks into my gym. When my heart's set on something, watch out, world—and I'm not just talking about winning battles. Some even say it's what got me where I am today.

The only downside is that sometimes I get a little _too_ focused, or so I've been told. Gardenia likes to call it obsessed, but I wouldn't go that far.

And no, she doesn't mean with Volkner. Obviously, that's different.

"Well, you know what I think," Gardenia begins, and I can already guess what's going to come next. "Just tell him how you feel. Or ask him out—before Elesa beats you to it."

"Are you crazy?"

"Hey, you've gotta be bold if you wanna get the guy."

That's Gardenia's philosophy. One day, she realized Roark was a total catch under all that mining gear. The next day, she paid a surprise visit to the Oreburgh Gym. He asked her what she was doing there. She kissed him right on the lips. And it must have worked, because they've been together ever since.

In fact, it's probably the _only _thing that would've worked, because Roark's too much of an oblivious fossil brain to get his attention any other way. But you didn't hear that from me.

Every so often, when it hits me that I've been chasing Volkner my entire Pokémon League career with no progress to speak of, I promise myself I'll take her advice. But then he gets that smirk on his face, and I just can't see it through.

Believe me, I've tried. Like last month at the Battleground, when I pulled him aside and told him I really liked… his shirt. And to make matters worse, it was a basic black one, so then I had to pretend like minimalism was the latest thing in fashion and anyone who was anyone was wearing plain t-shirts. Somehow, I don't think he bought it.

"Maybe not _that_ bold," I insist. "If he says no, it'll be one awkward weekend."

"And if he doesn't?"

"That's a pretty big if."

"Candice, I don't get it," Maylene speaks up. "You're always so positive. But when it comes to Volkner, you're, well…"

"A mess?"

"You said it, not me."

"Right. And I'm sure if Aaron went off with some world-famous model, you'd be just fine?"

That was a cheap shot, I know. But she started it.

Maylene's been spending tons of time with the newest member of our Elite Four, and I've got a sneaking suspicion she's after more than just training sessions. When I first met her, she was the definition of the word tomboy. Then Aaron came into the picture, and all of a sudden she was asking to borrow accessories. What's next, a makeup tutorial?

Actually, I'd enjoy that. Here's hoping.

"What does Aaron have to do with anything?" Her voice has gone up a whole octave, and her face is as pink as her hair. There's no doubt about it—she's got it bad.

Gardenia and I exchange knowing grins. "Something tells me Candice isn't the only one with a crush around here."

"Okay," Maylene mumbles. "IguessIkindalikehim."

"What was that?" I can't help but tease.

"_I like Aaron,_ _all_ _right_?" She's shouting so loudly, I cover my ears with a pillow. "D-do you think anyone heard that?"

I think the entire hotel heard that. "Um… no?"

"Definitely." Gardenia nods. She may be one of the nicest people ever, but she sure doesn't sugarcoat.

"Well, it's about time you set your sights on someone," I tell Maylene, making no attempt to hide my excitement. "Now we can crush together!"

(And no, I'm not twelve years old. Just for the record.)

"Or you could actually _do_ something about your crush," Gardenia counters, with a meaningful glance at me. "And we could double date together."

Maylene looks doubtful. "I knew I shouldn't have said anything."

But I can already tell we're going to have a blast. "Next time the League calls a meeting, you can come over and get ready at my place! And afterwards, we'll go out for ice cream and analyze every single word they said to us!"

"Um... is that supposed to be fun?"

Gardenia doesn't even try to hold back her laughter. "That depends who you ask."

* * *

Long after we've called it a night, I'm still thinking about our conversation. It might take all the focus I've got in me, but I know I can figure this out. And if there was ever a time to be bold, it's now.

Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not going to throw myself at Volkner or anything. But I can't back off and let Elesa have her way, or it's all over. At the rate they're going, they'll be an item by the time we're done here. And then he'll be off-limits. Taken. Lost in long-distance limbo—at least, until they finally realize it's never going to work. But if the whole Jasmine debacle was any indication, that could take a _while_.

It's obvious, isn't it? There's no choice but to step in before things go any further. I don't need a miracle. I just need a way to keep Elesa out of the picture until we're gone from Nimbasa for good.

Then I remember what I told Volkner earlier today, and the answer comes to me like an Avalanche.

_I'm in charge, remember?_

"I've got it," I say out loud. "I know what I have to do."

But no one's awake to hear it. Honestly. You'd think they'd be a little more excited for me.

* * *

_Up next: Volkner's spending the day with Elesa... or is he? Not if Candice can help it.__  
_


	4. Pursuit

_senirasushipping — because some battles are too important to lose_

* * *

**- 4 -**

**Pursuit**

* * *

Crushes are a lot like wild Pokémon. You never see them coming. If you're not careful, you can really get hurt. And you can't wait too long to make your move, or someone else might turn up out of nowhere and catch the one you want.

Now that Elesa's reared her not-so-ugly head, I can't afford to waste another minute. Which is why I spent the entire morning holed up in my room with Gardenia and Maylene, trying on outfit after outfit until we found a winner.

Well, _I _tried on outfits. They sat around and flipped through channels and rolled their eyes at questions like "Does this dress make me look sophisticated?" and "Yeah, but more sophisticated than _her_?"

Whatever. It was worth it. In the end, we settled on a sheer white blouse over a matching cami, paired with a pale lilac skirt and sky-high heels. (Not quite five inches this time—I've learned my lesson. Four and a half is good enough for me.) As we make our way through the hotel lobby, I feel like I've just stepped out of a fashion spread.

Which is nothing compared to actually being in fashion spreads. But I'm fine with that. My days of trying—and failing—to compete with Elesa are over. Her face could be plastered across every billboard in Nimbasa, and I wouldn't mind in the least. Because I've got a plan.

I'm the one in charge here. So if I don't want Volkner hanging out with her, I don't have to let him.

Only I haven't quite worked out how I'm supposed to do that. I mean, I can't exactly institute a No Models rule, can I?

I'm wondering if No Foreign Gym Leaders would be any better when Maylene nudges me. "Don't look now, but he's out there on the patio. Second table on the left."

Too late. I can't look away. Volkner's not wearing his jacket for a change, and… _Arceus_. I still don't know what he does when he's "busy with the gym," but if it gives him arms like that, I'll never complain again.

"What are you waiting for?" Gardenia's already cheering me on. "Go talk to him!"

"Now?" After what went down with Elesa, I'm fearing the worst. "But what if he's meeting someone? What if it's her?"

She grins wickedly at me. "Then you'd better get to him first."

* * *

As I venture out onto the patio, I can't help but hesitate. With every move in Volkner's direction, yesterday comes flooding back. I let jealousy get the best of me. I acted like one of those token mean girls on TV. I said I couldn't keep my hands off him, for crying out loud. So it should come as no surprise that I'm having doubts about this whole talking to him thing.

Which is not to say that I'm nervous. I'm simply considering my options.

For instance, I could go right up to Volkner and say hi. That's one option. I could casually walk on by and pretend to spot him out of the corner of my eye. That's another option. Or I could turn and run. But then I'd never hear the end of it.

A woman in a hostess uniform taps me on the shoulder. "Can I help you?"

"No, thanks." I honestly don't see what the big deal is. I've only been hiding—I mean, standing behind this potted plant for two minutes. "I'm just checking out the patio."

But Volkner's head jerks up at the sound of my voice, and before I can dart out of sight, he lifts a hand and waves me over. Looks like I've only got one option now.

"Imagine running into you here," I say as I approach, in case he thinks I'm stalking him or something. "I'm just—"

"Checking out the patio. I heard." He takes a sip of his coffee. "Have a seat."

"I might as well." I fake a casual tone, but inside, I'm ecstatic with relief. He wouldn't say that if he'd had it with me. And he sure wouldn't say that if he was waiting for Elesa. I sit down opposite him, smiling to myself as I notice the familiar blue jacket hanging on the back of my chair. So that's where it went.

"I'll get that out of your way," he offers, and I reluctantly hand it over. Does he _have _to?

See, I have this thing about Volkner's jacket. The military look does it for me like no other, and I can't get over the way it matches his eyes exactly. I'd give anything to wear it. I even bought the perfect skirt to go with it. Now all I need to do is get us caught in a sudden rainstorm.

I've got it. Next time I have a slow day at the gym, I'll teach my Glaceon Rain Dance.

"Did you manage to get some rest?" Volkner's asking me, and I blink at him in confusion.

Oh, right. I'm supposed to be jetlagged. "Yeah, I did. Sorry if I wasn't myself last night. The time change really did a number on me."

Not bad, huh? That can be my excuse for everything.

"I'll say." The corners of his mouth twist upward. "Never thought I'd see you in a mood like that."

"I can think of a few times I've seen _you_ like that." Like when Aaron got the Elite Four spot that had Volkner's name on it—or so we all thought. Or when Cynthia reamed him out in front of the entire Sinnoh League for handing out badges like candy. But it's probably best that I don't bring them up.

He lets out a low chuckle. "Sounds about right."

And now that my fears have been put to rest, I realize—this couldn't have worked out better if I'd planned it. I'm gazing back at Volkner across a gleaming glass table topped with a single white orchid, and there's just the right amount of sunshine beaming down on us. What more could a girl want?

After our waitress makes her rounds (I order an iced latte, Volkner's fine for now), he leans in toward me. "So, you know where they're going for the Elite retreat? Lavaridge, of all places."

"Random. Why there?" Flint's in charge of that one, and if I know him, his reasons will be utterly ridiculous and yet totally awesome at the same time.

"That's easy," Volkner tells me. "It's got hot springs and fire Pokémon galore."

Funny how he's actually making the effort to carry on a conversation for once. He must've had a few good battles lately. That is the only possible explanation for this. Either that, or he and Elesa got it on in the control room last night and now he's on top of the world.

I try not to think about it. "The Pokémon, I get. But what does Flint care about hot springs?"

He lowers his voice a notch. "Between you and me, I think he just wants to see Cynthia in a bikini."

Flint's a smart guy. Why didn't we go to Lavaridge? I could've worn all kinds of cute bikinis and seen Volkner shirtless.

I can picture us now, alone in the spring, staring up at the star-dotted sky. He'll utter my name and I'll turn to face him, taken by the sight of his blond hair glinting in the moonlight and the droplets of water glistening on his chest.

Somewhere far, far away, it occurs to me that this is no time to be daydreaming. But I'm just getting to the good part.

The air will be thick with steam. We'll be delirious with heat, unthinking, and unable to resist. I'll press my lips to his, letting my every impulse take over. And he'll kiss me relentlessly and I'll melt into his arms and we'll never ever want to let go…

"_Volkner_," I'll whisper in his ear, sighing contentedly as his hands wander down my back.

"Candice," he'll reply, in a voice that all but kills the moment. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Wait… what?

Oh, Arceus. I knew this wasn't the time.

"I wasn't looking at anything. I was just thinking. About… about…"

Volkner. Hot springs. The feeling of his skin on mine as we—

Stop. Just _stop_.

One thing's for sure—I can't look at him after that. As I drag my thoughts back to the present, my eyes are glued to my feet. "Shoes," I blurt out. For some reason.

"You must _really _love shoes. You should've seen your face."

He's laughing at me. What did I say that for? I could've said something clever, like ancient Pastorian battle theory. (Believe it or not, I know exactly what that is. You don't get to be a Gym Leader straight out of Trainer's School without doing some serious studying.) I could've said something Volkner would definitely be into, like my no-fail Subway Boss strategy. (Which, strictly speaking, I don't actually have. But it doesn't sound too hard to make up.)

But no. I had to say _shoes_.

"So, um, you have plans for today?" With any luck, he won't, and we can hit up the Battle Subway, just the two of us. Then I can stop putting my foot in my mouth and start showing him what I'm made of. And maybe get a congratulatory hug or two in the process.

"Nothing much." He shrugs. "Just meeting up with Elesa this afternoon."

No. Not that. Anything but that.

"You can't!" I protest, before I think better of it. Didn't he get enough of the Thunderbolt/Thunder debate the first time around?

"What do you mean, I can't? Don't tell me you're—"

"Jealous?" I force out a laugh. "Why would I be jealous?"

"Planning something," he finishes with raised eyebrows. "But since you brought that up… why _would _you be jealous?"

That's it. The next time Volkner asks me to have a seat, I'm telling him thanks but no thanks. I'm not falling for it. It's a trap.

But what's done is done. It's no use freaking out about what I said. And it's no use pouting over the truth—that I'm honestly so jealous, it hurts. The important thing now is to focus.

Come on, _think_. How can I fix this?

"Actually, I've got plans for us already," I find myself saying. "So you'd better call Elesa and cancel."

It's the answer I've been searching for all along. I'll just cram this retreat full of activities, and Volkner won't have a moment to spare. Elesa won't know what hit her.

Sure, we don't have any plans. But I can make plans. There are a million things to do in Nimbasa. Right now, I only have to come up with one.

Frantically, I scan our surroundings for inspiration. There's a group of corporate bigshots discussing business. A sunglass-wearing woman with a five-table entourage. Two guys in football jerseys eating burgers.

There. That'll have to do. "We're going to the football game!" I tell him, before the inevitable next question—_what plans?_ And right away, he gets that look on his face. The one he always gets when he's up to no good.

"I wasn't aware we had a date."

Is he _trying _to make me blush? Because I'm pretty sure it's working. "Everyone's going. All part of the retreat. Didn't you hear?"

"So much for doing our own thing."

"Um, about that…" I fall back on my favorite excuse—besides jet lag, that is. "Blame the League. They said it wouldn't do much for inter-leader relations if we all went off on our own, so…"

"Well, you can tell them to take their inter-leader relations and shove it."

"Is that what you want?" I ask innocently. "Because last I heard, you were on dangerously thin ice after that whole badge scandal."

Yeah, I went there. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

"Tell me about it." In true Volkner fashion, he doesn't seem concerned in the least.

"I bet Cynthia would love to hear about this." I retrieve my phone from my purse, remembering just in time to cover up the screen so he won't see our picture on it. (On second thought, I probably should've saved that wallpaper for after the retreat. I'll change it back later. When he's not looking.)

His eyes narrow in suspicion. "Are you threatening me?"

"What, don't think I'll go through with it?"

"You wouldn't."

I flash him a naughty grin. "Watch me."

But he knows me well. I wouldn't. Which is why I'm not calling Cynthia at all.

"_Thank you for calling the Snowpoint Gym_," a robotic voice plays back at me. "_Our hours are Monday through Friday_…"

"Cynthia, it's Candice. How are you?"

"_To schedule a battle, press one. To request a rematch, press two…" _

"You know, I'm glad you asked. Everything's great. Only I'm having a little trouble with Volkner." I pause for a few moments, then laugh. "Yeah, I'm not surprised either."

"Like she'll care," Volkner interrupts. But I can hear it in his voice. He's getting worried.

_"To inquire about training opportunities, press six..." _

"Teach him a lesson?" I giggle, ignoring him completely. "Sure, why not?"

"Thanks, Candice. Thanks a lot."

_"For all other queries, press nine. To hear these options again…_"

Okay. Here goes nothing.

"Isn't that kind of harsh? I mean, I know he's caused some problems over the years. But slashing his reno budget in half…" I trail off, suppressing a smile as Volkner's jaw drops.

"Give me that phone. Now."

"Can't you just, I don't know, lecture him or something?"

"Fine." He slams his fist down on the table so hard, I'm amazed to see it still in one piece. "I'll go, all right? Just don't ever try that again."

"I thought that might change your mind." I drop my phone back into my bag with a triumphant flourish. How do you like that, Volkner? I win. You lose.

So why doesn't he _look _like he's lost?

I'll never understand him. One minute, he's at my mercy. The next minute, he's leaning back in his chair like he owns the place. "Don't you think it's a bit rude, hanging up on Cynthia like that?"

"I didn't hang up on her!" I lie desperately, realizing my mistake. "She hung up on me!"

But he's not buying it. Not even close. "You weren't on the phone at all, were you?"

Oh, what's the point? He's caught me. "I was. With my gym's automated answering service. Did you really think I'd do that to you?"

"I didn't," he admits. "But you were pretty convincing." And he's looking at me with the strangest expression—almost like he's impressed. "You have an automated answering service?"

"Yeah. You should try it. It's great for avoiding calls from the League," I tease him. "Not that _I_ ever need to do that or anything."

"Or faking calls _to_ the League," he teases me right back. "I'll tell you what. If you want me at the game _that _badly, then I guess Elesa can wait."

"Good." Here's hoping she'll be waiting all weekend.

Take that, Elesa. Mission accomplished. Now all I have to do is show up at the stadium, and I'm set.

Assuming, of course, that there _is _a game today. And they're still selling tickets. And I can convince everyone else to come, so it won't look like I made this whole thing up at the last minute to keep Volkner occupied. Which I did. But he's not supposed to know that.

"So when's football?" It's like he's reading my mind.

"Speaking of football…" I practically jump out of my seat. "I've got a few errands to run first. I'll text you about the time, 'kay?"

And as soon as I'm out of Volkner's sight, I reach for my phone once more. I'm going to need all the help I can get.

* * *

I have the best friends in the world. The moment I called them up and told them what I'd done, they sprang into action. Half an hour later, Maylene's helped me gather everyone in the sixteenth floor lounge, and Gardenia's somehow managed to get a hold of eight football tickets, all in the same row.

Turns out they really are having a game this afternoon. Call it luck, but I knew those guys weren't dressed in jerseys for no reason.

Okay, fine. It was luck. And, if I'm being honest, my plan wasn't met with incredible enthusiasm, either. Maylene was looking forward to checking out the Battle Institute today. And Gardenia couldn't resist pointing out that all this would've been avoided if only I'd swallowed my pride and told Volkner _exactly_ why I was jealous. But, hey, what are friends for?

Now, as I stand before my fellow Gym Leaders, I'm thinking I might actually pull this thing off. There's only one problem. None of us like football.

"But you can't go to Nimbasa and not watch football!" I argue. "It's what Unova culture is all about! These people never miss a game!"

"I wouldn't mind missing the game," Byron mutters under his breath, to a chorus of laughter.

Truth be told, on any other day, neither would I. But unless I want Volkner and Elesa running off into the sunset together, I've got to get these people on board. So just call me Sinnoh's biggest football fan for now.

"Don't mess with her," Volkner warns, with more than a hint of sarcasm. "She'll call Cynthia on you."

I've got a bad feeling about this. But if it worked on him…

"That's right. It's mandatory. And if you give me a hard time, I… just might have to." My voice falters a little. I'm not used to all these shocked faces and angry glares. "But don't worry, it'll be fun!" I add quickly, hoping my excitement will catch on. "Football's only the greatest sport ever!"

"Whatever happened to ice skating?" asks Roark. I take it Gardenia never filled him in on our plan.

"And skiing," Volkner puts in, though there's something not quite serious about his tone. If he thinks I'm going down another fifty-degree slope…

"Are you kidding? This girl can't ski to save her life." Maylene laughs—at least, until she spots me frantically shaking my head at her. That's not what I told Volkner last night.

"Oh, look at the time!" I make a grand gesture out of checking my phone, waving it around so everyone can see. "We're going to be late!"

No, we're not. But thankfully, nobody calls me on it, so we're off. And as we leave for the stadium, some of us more willingly than others, Volkner falls into step beside me, smirking like he's got me all figured out.

"So, Candice. Nice wallpaper."

* * *

_Up next: __Candice sits next to Volkner at the game. He makes her wish she hadn't._


End file.
